


By Virtue of Rank

by MechanicalMomo



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Bickering, And Leon is amused, But really they're just bros, Can be read as gen, Canon Era, Gen, Gwen is Queen, Merlin refuses to let Arthur maintain his dignity, Merthur - Freeform, Pre-Slash, Ps I hate researching ill-documented eras, Set sometime between series 4 and 5, Slightly Possessive Arthur, These two are always in a perpetual state of barely constrained longing, and I love it, and full of wise advice that Arthur never takes, but let's be real, color heraldry, finally got around to fixing it to include my girl Gwen, go figure, heraldry and etiquette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:09:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechanicalMomo/pseuds/MechanicalMomo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur believes a king's will can change everything (but Merlin knows better)</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Virtue of Rank

"Just stay still, Merlin, for goodness sake-"

"Arthur-why-oof-" there was the sound of scuffling and and small thud underneath all of the squabbling, and Leon looked about bemusedly, catching sight of several articles of clothing strewn about the bedchamber leading towards the open wardrobe, where his king was forcing Merlin's head into one of his own shirts.

"No wonder you need help dressing!" the young servant was complaining, though it was muffled by the rich purple fabric covering his face. "Ow, you're pulling my hair! Arthur-"

The knight cleared his throat, completely unfazed by Merlin's customary informality. "It might help, my Lord, if you would stop trying to put his head through the sleeve."

The bickering pair started at the interruption, whirling around to face the older man as he stood in the anterior, struggling to keep the grin off of his face as he watched Merlin peering at him through the handhole.

Arthur coughed and tried his best not to look completely mortified, straightening his hair as he squared his shoulders, leaving the dark-haired warlock to sort out the shirt on his own. Moments later, his dark head popped out of the proper opening, his hair a mess and his blue eyes shining with laughter as he tugged and rearranged the garment until it sat as well as it ever would on his gangly frame.

"Hello Sir Leon," he greeted as he pulled the strings at the neck till they were even. "My Lord is having a fussy moment and is making me model his clothes." The sleeves were too long and flopped about as he gestured around at the mess.

" _Mer_ lin!" The King growled, swatting the warlock upside the head, causing him to wince.

"Ow! Now listen here, dollophead-"

"Shut up Merlin! What can I do for you, Sir Leon?" The blond asked, struggling to maintain his dignity in the face of the knight's barely restrained smirk.

"Ah, my Lord Esslyn bids me to tell you that he plans to join you in your chambers to complete the business you two spoke of several days past. He was called away to his property in the north to handle some dealings with the local peasantry, but has since returned and awaits your pleasure."

"Ah, excellent, bid him come to me after dinner. I'll be dining with Aniss' emissary in the council chamber, but afterwards I shall be free to entertain him."

The curly-haired knight bowed low as he made to exit the room. "Yes my Lord."

"Thank you, Leon. I'll leave you in charge of this afternoon's training. You'll probably have to drag Gwaine from his bed; if the rumours that have reached me are true, he enjoyed himself a great deal with several ladies in the tavern last night and got himself into another quarrel with someone's irritable betrothed."

"Of course, my Lord," and with one last smile in Merlin's direction, he was gone, leaving the two young men standing amoungst the disarray. There was a beat of silence as Merlin stood, swishing the dangling fabric of the sleeves to and fro, before Arthur huffed in annoyance and shoved him lightly.

"Well what are you waiting for, pick this mess up!" He snapped, grabbing his quilted great coat from the bed and shrugging into it and heading for the door. "I expect my chambers to be spotless when I return for my meeting with Lord Esslyn, Merlin," he called from the hallway. "Or you'll be wearing that drawstring around your neck permanently!"

"Well that's not fair!" The warlock hollered back. "This is your mess, not mine!"

"Well, that's what I employ you for, isn't it?" Was the echoed reply, and as Merlin opened his mouth to retort, " _shut up Merlin!_ " rang faintly from down the corridor, and the servant put his hands on his hips in irritation, eyeing the mess around him. Muttering to himself under his breath, the dark-haired warlock reached down and snatched up a pair of trousers and a belt, breaking into a grin as he spotted a new set of holes in the leather. Holes he hadn't made.

He'd get his payback later.

 

Arthur and Lord Esslyn managed to meet at the door to the King's Privy Chambers, just as Merlin was arranging the bedclothes and hurriedly setting out goblets for wine and plate for the small array of light foods he had ordered from the kitchens; orchard fruits, manchet for Arthur and cheat loaves for his guest, jellies, and small dumplings stuffed with lamb. Though Arthur had just finished a formal dinner with all the required courses, there was a chance that Esslyn had not eaten, for it was hardly past midday, and Arthur always like to show himself to be lavish and liberal in private. He couldn't have anything to complain about, Merlin thought, surveying the spread, and likewise the rest of the chamber, with a critical eye as the door opened and he squared his shoulders and sank into a bow. When he raised his eyes, however, it wasn't the blond's appreciative face he was meeting, but his impatient eyeroll, and Esslyn's surprised, and disapproving, expression.

Cocking a confused eyebrow at Arthur as he took his place at table, realization dawned as the other man gestured covertly to the purple shirt he had apparently forgotten to take off in his haste to straighten the room. No wonder Esslyn looked appalled. 

"Ah, sorry, Sire, I had noticed the seam had torn and was mending it, had to make sure the stitches were straight and the fabric wasn't rumpled," the warlock babbled, wriggling his way out of the shirt and rushing to put it back in the wardrobe. He was thankful he had still been wearing his own simple blue shirt underneath; running around shirtless in present company would have his head in the stocks for certain.

"A laundress could have handled such a task, surely," Esslyn commented disdainfully, lowering himself into a chair at Arthur's insistence as Merlin shrugged his jacket back on.

"Ah, well, I'd rather handle my Lord's clothing myself, you know, can never be too sure a job'll be done correctly."

"And your dedication is admirable indeed," Arthur said grandly, though Merlin could hear the mockery underneath, and he would have replied in kind if not for Esslyn's presence, but instead he held his tongue and smiled.

"Indeed. Though I must say," Esslyn sniffed, his lip curling beneath his elegantly trimmed grey mustache, "purple isn't really your color, is it?"

His derision was unmistakable, and beside him, Arthur stiffened, his expression freezing as Merlin's cheeks reddened slightly. "Not at all, my Lord," he said obligingly after a beat. "It doesn't really suit me in the slightest. Will that be all, Sire?" He asked, addressing Arthur with studied nonchalance.

The king cleared his throat, coming back to himself at the question and shaking his head in response. "No, Merlin, that will be all, thank you. I'll require your services at supper, but I give you leave until then."

"As you say, Sire. My Lords," he bowed to the two men in turn before backing out of the chambers, his face still hot and his hands clenched into fists.

 

"Afternoon, Sire, I've brought you your dinner," Merlin announced cheerfully several days later, sweeping into the King's chambers with a platter laden with warm manchet bread stuffed with cheese and herbs, fruit, and the remnants of last night's supper in one hand and a pitcher of wine in the other; behind him, a liveried boy followed, carrying the necessary plate and napery. "Cook graciously spared the last of the salted cod from yesterday, and by graciously I mean she grumbled viciously about it and called me several horrible names which cannot be used in polite company, though I can't be sure because I'm not entirely sure what a-nevermind I won't take the chance. Will you be dining at the table, my Lord, or do you intend to stay chained to your desk?" The boy stood a bit slack-jawed at the breezy flippance of Merlin's tone, his eyes wide and curious, but the warlock caught him and snapped his fingers pointedly, and he jumped to, hurriedly moving to lay down the linen and bowing himself out of the door.

Arthur gestured towards the table with his quill with a small, distracted nod. "There will be fine, thank you, I'm almost finished."

"More important matters of state, Sire?" the warlock asked with a grin as he began setting Arthur's place at the head of the table, beginning with the salt cellar ornately engraved with the initials of the King and Queen.

"Something like that, yes," was the vague response, and Merlin just shook his head and continued to set the dishes down, stealing a sliver of apple as he did so.

"I intend to enoble you," Arthur announced without warning, scribbling away at his papers and looking pleased with himself. Merlin choked, the goblet in his hands falling to the tabletop with a clang, and at his servant's strangled spluttering, the King glaced up, a frown settling over his handsome features. "What's the matter, I'd thought you'd be pleased."

"Arthur," he managed, the dishes instantly forgotten as he scrambled over to the desk, tripping over boots and laundry as he went. "That is a terrible idea, you can't do that!"

The blond's frown deepened. "I believe I am the King and may do as I please, and if We see fit to promote you, then We will." There was a stubborn set to his jaw as he continued on writing, ignoring the gangly form looming above him. "And since it is Our will, it will be done."

Merlin rolled his eyes at the thoroughly unsubtle use of verbal etiquette and pressed on. "Why? I've never wanted it, you know that. I've always told you that I'm pleased to serve you like this, and I mean it, Arthur, honest."

Arthur tossed down his quill and flung himself back in his chair roughly. "But they don't respect you!" He exclaimed, gesturing widely towards the door, his face incredulous. "They talk down to you and treat you like you're nothing!"

"I'm a servant, Arthur, of course they do," the warlock retorted wryly, but his words only frustrated the King further, and he rose from his seat, pacing agitatedly with his hands on his hips. He had been unusually courteous and quiet over the last few days since his meeting with Esslyn, though Merlin had done his best to rouse him from his thoughtful mood with his insolent teasing. The dark-haired servant knew the older lord's comment had upset him. Naturally, it had upset him too, but his rancor hadn't lasted long, and he had thought Arthur would be over it as well, but clearly it had rankled the king far more than Merlin had realized.

"Exactly! They're always disregarding the things you say, and treating you like you're worthless, all because you're a servant!"

"It's no worse or different then how you treat me," Merlin countered with a shrug, but he was only half-serious, and he smiled to appease the blond's affronted spluttering. "And it's not because I'm a servant, Arthur, it's because I'm a peasant of no name, no lineage. My position has always gone to boys of gentle birth, remember, and it was supposed to be a reward for someone lowly like me to be elevated to such a post, though I will say, I still think your father has the wrong idea of what a reward really is, I mean really-"

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur huffed, and dark-haired boy's grin turned impish.

"Sorry, Sire. But it's true. I've risen above my station, and power is guarded jealously here, you know that as well as I. The balance was disrupted when I came to Court; had I stayed on only as an apprentice to Gaius, things would have continued on as they were supposed to, with some nobleman's son taking a post meant for him, but unfortunately _you've_ always got someone trying to kill you, so a nameless nobody ended up usurping their place. It makes sense that they should treat me with disdain. You on the other hand-"

" _Merlin_!" But the blond couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.

"Come and eat your lunch, Sire, before it grows cold," the warlock entreated, hoping to put him off his train of thought, but the King would not be deterred.

"It isn't right for them to treat you thusly," he continued, his tone growing more indignant. "Have I not always sought to create a kindgom that is fair and just? Where all, whether servant or knight or lord, are equal, to be treated with the respect and kindness they deserve? Have I not sought to live by example, and ensure my knights live by example?" He looked truly distressed, and Merlin softened.

"You have, Arthur, truly, and the people love and respect you for it. But showing compassion and kindness is not the same as equality. You cannot help the station you were born into any more than I could. You are king for a reason, and the nobles exist for a reason, and it's only natural for them to look down on someone who is lowly to them."

"Would you _stop saying that_?" Arthur exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "You aren't lowly, Merlin! From the minute you entered my service you've done nothing but prove yourself worthy of the position. Not through your work, mind you, God knows those were dark days," Merlin rolled his eyes at that, but didn't interrupt. "But you've shown yourself to be loyal, brave, and true, and I can't say that for half of that lot out there. Any advancement you achieve is through your own merit, and that they treat you like this is disrespectful, not only to you, but to me."

Merlin's eyes twinkled with amusement, crinkling merrily at the corners. "So this is really about defending your honor, not mine, is that it Sire?"

"Of course not!" He nearly shouted, outraged at the suggestion. "I mean, yes, it is technically a criticism of my choice of appointments and therefore a criticism of me, but more importantly it's criticism and disrespect you don't deserve, and if you have a title equal to theirs, they'll be forced to acknowledge your worth. "

"And you really think that would work? Arthur, if anything, that would give them cause to think the worst and resent me more."

Arthur stopped his pacing, looking confused as he faced Merlin fully. "Think the worst? What do you mean?"

"Think about it, they know I have your ear, and your favor, though you have a funny way of showing it, and they would never believe that you raised me of your own free will and kind heart, or that I'd earned it in some way. So sudden a rise out of nowhere, after all this time, would be suspicious."

There was a beat of silence, and then, "But that's preposterous!" Arthur exploded, blood rushing to his face as he raged. "You've never once asked for anything for yourself, not once! All day long I'm surrounded by stubborn old fools from my father's day looking to keep hold of their power and brash young flatters looking to make their fortunes. Very few of them, if any, deserve half of what they've got and all they want is more, but you, you don't care about any of that, because you _care_. About your friends, the maids, the stable hands, even complete strangers! You've always been more intent on helping others then yourself, almost stupidly so, I've known it to almost have cost you your life! And they would think, they would dare-"

"Arthur, please, sit down and eat and shut up, will you?"

The king blinked, his ranting cut short as he gaped at the young man before him. "Did you just tell me to shut up?"

"Yes," Merlin huffed, grabbing the blond by the shoulders and guiding him to his seat at the table. "I did. And you will, because you're going to eat the food that I took so much abuse for, and you're going to listen to what I have to say, is that clear?"

Finally, Arthur let himself be settled in his seat and a napkin set over his shoulder. He watched as Merlin bustled about him, pouring his wine and placing the food on his plate. Only when the blond slowly began to eat did he step back and take a breath.

"You're right, my Lord. I have never wanted anything for myself. In the first few days, I didn't want to be your servant at all, I only wanted to study with Gaius and learn at his hand. But you soon showed me that you were not who I thought you were, and I hope, on some level, that it's been the same for you."

"Well I still think you're an idiot," Arthur interjected as he took a sip of his wine, and the warlock leveled him with a withering look.

"Funny. Look, the point is, the only thing I've ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy, to become the great king that I know you'll be, nothing more. I don't care what your lords think of me, because one of the only opinions I've ever cared about was yours. Do you think that I am any less derserving of respect because of my birth?"

The blond halted the bite of fish that was heading for his mouth, his eyes wide. "Of course not!"

"And you trust that I would never mislead you with false or harmful counsel?"

"I would trust you with my life, you know that!"

"And you think that I'm charmingly witty and brilliantly intelligent?"

"Of course I-" Arthur narrowed his eyes and flung a fishbone at the grinning servant. "Don't press your luck, Merlin. Get on with it, I'm sure there's a point here somewhere," but even he couldn't stop his lips from twitching upwards into a smile.

"It was worth a shot. But seriously, Arthur, your good opinion is all I need. I'm not a nobleman, I'm your man, and I'm happy to be, always have been. And besides, even if I were a lord, I'd still have to wash your sweaty socks, and really, there isn't a title grand enough to make up for-hey!" He cried, dodging the hunks of cooled bread Arthur pelted him with. "There are starving people out there who would love to even smell that bread you know!"

The blond ceased his throwing, a solemn crease settling between his brows. "Of course, you're right, sorry," he said quietly, his gaze lowered to the rough wooden tabletop. "You're always calling me out on my actions and bringing attention to things that I otherwise would never have realized. You speak your mind and keep me honest, sometimes to your own detriment. Very few have the courage to do that; in fact I can barely number them on both hands. I know that I don't express my gratitude to you often, Merlin, yet you always remain steadfast, and even if I never say it, I am thankful. It is...staggering, sometimes, to have such a true friend as you've been to me. Since you (and Guinevere," he added grumpily, and oh, how kind of Gwen not to warn him, he'd be having a word with her later), "think an enoblement is the wrong course of action, then I'll conceed to your wishes to ensure your continued comfort and happiness." Looking up at his servant, he was taken aback by the sunshiney smile on his pale face. "What?" He asked, hunching down and clearing his throat self-consciously, willing the pink to fade from his cheeks.

"Hm? Oh, nothing," the warlock replied, his eyes bright with admiration and laughter. "Just glad to be of service, my Lord," and the sincerity in his tone was a warm weight in Arthur's chest.

Tearing his gaze away from the bright smile threatening to split the servant's face, the blond cleared his throat again and nudged a chair out from under the table with his foot. "Sit," he ordered, waving a hand at the chair to his left, across from Gwen's chair directly below the salt. "Eat. You look like you haven't had a bite to eat all day."

"Well that's because I haven't," the younger man countered with a put-upon huff. "I've been running around for you all day-"

" _Mer_ lin!"

"Yes Sire, sorry Sire. Thank you Sire."

They ate in silence for a few moments, until Arthur peered at his companion from the corner of his eye. "So. 'My man' are you?"

Merlin scoffed. "What? Who said that? I think you must have misheard, maybe some wax in your ears, my Lord. Or perhaps it's your age creeping up on you, it happens you know. Gaius uses a tincture in his left ear..." but he was smiling, the weight of the question not lost on him at all. "I could ask him to make one for you if you'd like."

"Yes, and you could also ask him to make me some kind of potion that would render you speechless so I could have some peace for a change."

And so they carried on, bickering and teasing each other with silly grins, and when Leon poked his head in to speak to the king, he retreated at the sight of them seated together comfortably, an indulgent smile on his handsome face. His business could wait.

 

One week later, as Merlin attended Arthur at a council meeting with his lords, the blond noticed as Esslyn's gaze was drawn to the new neckerchief of soft, red fabric around his neck.

Arthur's eyes also lingered on the bright piece of cloth with a glint of pride. He had gifted it to Merlin only this morning; he'd had it made from the same fabric as the knight's cape, and though it was technically forbidden to someone of Merlin's rank, there was a tiny golden dragon embroidered on one of the corners, and Arthur had spent the better part of a half an hour arguing with the servant to take it. He'd only won out when he'd knotted the cloth around the warlock's neck in a way that didn't show the needlework, took Gwen's advice and ceased shouting, and instead entreated him with soft, earnest words and his most endearing smile.

"What do you think, my Lord?" He heard Merlin ask with a hint of cheekiness when he noticed the older man's stare. There was no doubt that he knew what it was and what it symbolized. In the same way the knights' capes announced to the world that they were proudly Arthur's men, the bright red around the dark-haired young man's neck loudly proclaimed him to be the king's through and through. "I think red suits me much better than purple, don't you agree?" The servant went on airly, seemingly oblivious the lord's discomfiture as he innocently stretched his slender neck out to give him a better look.

Arthur hid his laughter in his goblet at the small jibe, but as he spied the pale skin beneath the bright folds of fabric, he secretly agreed that Camelot red suited Merlin much better than any other color.

He was going to make sure he wore it more often.

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I rewatch Merlin on Netflix without interruption for several days, and also awful title is awful, but still better than the first few I came up with. I always knew I'd write for the Merlin fandom someday, shame it's only this. Hope you enjoyed it anyway!
> 
> You may have noticed, but a lot of the dining and wardrobe etiquette used here comes from the late medieval and early renaissance periods in England, particularly the reign of Henry VIII.
> 
> \--Much of the ritual that surrounded meals in Henry's time was influenced by the Dukes of Burgundy, who raised something as simple as eating to an art form, and used it as a way of establishing and asserting their rank. I tired to keep it simple here, for example the use of the salt cellar, which was placed at the right of the most important person at the table ("above the salt"), with everyone else seated down the line in order of rank ("below the salt"); basically, the closer you were to the salt (a pricey commodity in those days, along with sugar and other spices), the more important you were. Being invited to dine in private was considered a great honor, and a mark of great favor, particularly as Henry's reign went on and his need for more privacy grew and he retreated from the public more and more. Sitting in the presence of a monarch was also a great privilege. In my mind as I wrote this, the setup was basically like that of Henry's Household, with 16 different departments in the Kitchen, including the Ewery or Napery, which handed the tablecloths, napkins, fingerbowls, etc; the Buttery (bouteillerie), where wine was decanted into pitchers to be used by the court, the Larder, where meats were stored, and others though again, everything I imagine for Arthur's court is much simpler. In Henry's time it was believed that raw fruit caused fevers, so they ate all of their fruit cooked in tarts, pies, etc, but I don't know when this idea sprang up in history; they also ate their vegetables cooked, though that's unrelated to the fever thing as far as I know. I don't think that in those earlier centuries they believed this sort of thing, because ancient cultures loved raw fruit, and cucumbers were a particular favorite in Egypt because they were so refreshing, so I like to think that they had no problems picking an apple from a tree and just tucking into it. In Henry's reign, some fruits and vegetables had to be imported, such as oranges, popularized by Katherine of Aragon, from spain, and the King's salad vegetables were brought in from Flanders, but many were already native to the place, such a pears, apples, and even strawberries, which Henry and Anne Boleyn loved. Ale has also been around for practically ever, and was drank by most, but wine has been around for ages as well, and was considered a gentleman's drink, so of course Arthur has to have it, along with manchet loaves, made from the finest wheatflour, while lower quality loaves were for the rest of the court.
> 
> \--Clothing was also used a way of identifying someone's rank and status. Some colors, fabrics, and accessories were meant for those of high rank, such as the color purple, which no one below a Duke or Duchess was permitted to wear. Similarly, cloth of silver/gold, ermine, and embroidery were prohibited to those of low rank. These laws weren't always followed (such as when those such as the fishwives in France were not allowed to wear rouge defied the law and reddened their cheeks anyway, sometimes have to resort to using red wine instead of the very expensive rouge), but for the most part it was like this, with the monarch and his nobles using their clothing and throwing around their money in a calculated display of wealth, giving the regular people a good show.
> 
> As I mentioned in the tags, information on how things were run in the late 5th - early 6th centuries (which many say is the most probable time Arthur lived, if he did in fact exist), is pretty scarce; Britain was just coming out from under Roman rule, and though I did use what scant info I could find in terms of foods eaten and other small things, there were a few different cultures influencing society, and obviously in the show they didn't run around in Empire garb as they probably would have at the time. If you have any facts or fun little tidbits or find something I could improve on, correct, or add, let me know!!


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